Tender Moments
by NintendoNoir1
Summary: Sometimes even villains end up showing there children a little love, even on accident. Soft hearted, fluff one-shots. Primarily takes place before the first movie. Striving for keeping in character!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: First one-shot of this series! Evie and the Evil Queen! I loved their relationship most out of what was seen of the parents. I've checked the sources, there's never an origin behind Evie's heart-box purse, so I'm building the moment off of that. I'll try to keep it in character. Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

Chapter 1: Gift of the heart

On the Isle of the Lost, there stood a castle exiled into obscurity. The Castle Across the Way, it was called. It seemed as if it was ignored by almost everyone. The Isle inhabitants outside of it would pass by it, but would have their heads turned away, trying not to look at it. Judging by it's state of disrepair, it clearly was ignored by any servants. Truly the only ones not ignoring it are it's five inhabitants. The three vultures perched on the high grounds, and the two humans within it: Queen Grimhilde and her ten year old daughter, Evie.

Both the mother and daughter occupied the center of the Castle, sitting at a table. The daughter would sit still as she allowed her mother to do her make-up. This was an everyday occurrence for the two. Not even a joke, an _everyday_ occurrence. It was pretty all they could do to pass the time since Maleficent's decree against them. But unlike most days, the daughter provided difficulty for her mother. Hard to have one's eye shadow done when one's eyes are focused elsewhere.

"Evie, I swear, if you don't hold still I'll poke you in the eye again!" The queenly mother warned.

"Sorry, Mother." Evie apologized, yet her eyes remained trained and fixated.

 _What is the girl looking at?_ The Queen wondered. She followed her daughter's line of sight, turning her head to follow the direction. It seemed as if her eyes were focused on a shelf in the kitchen. Particularly one holding a peculiar box from her past with a latch shaped as a golden heart pierced by a dagger.

"Why do you keep looking at that box? And during Eye Shadow Hour?" Grimhilde interrogated, irritated by her daughter's distracted nature yet curious at the same time. This would be the first time Evie showed interest in something of hers that wasn't a vial of cosmetics.

"I'm sorry, Mother. It's just that I have an idea involving that box." Evie explained softly, mumbling over her words. She didn't usually have ideas let alone having to voice them. Especially to Mother.

"Oh really? And what, pray tell?" Grimhilde asked, curious of how Evie may act outside of being her little doll. If this little idea was something she didn't like, she should snuff it out while it's the first. But first to hear it out...

"I was wondering if I could make a handbag out of it. Convert it into an accessory!" Evie said, acting giddy as she voiced this idea. Perhaps as well giddy to voicing any idea for the first time in ten years. The smile slowly began to fade as she watched her mother sit there, pondering what she just said.

"Hmm. I've never consider such a thing." She said, almost sounding snooty, "But I do see some desirable outcome of it. But why that box in particular?"

Evie's smile resurrected and perked, "I mean, just look at it! The colors complementing each other, red and gold going so well together. And the box would clearly be spacious for all of my make-up."

Grimhilde couldn't resist a smirk rising at that last part. Pride at her daughter's mind returning to their favorable subject. Like mother, like daughter. But she still pondered such a request.

"True, the box holds both beauty and function. But it is stained with the failure of a traitor. And the blood of a pig." She said, obtaining the disgusted expression of her daughter.

"How so Mother? What was it for?" Evie asked, wondering what in the land could resulted with such. Blood of a pig? She'd expect such on the hands of Maleficent less than her mother!

"When I wanted Snow White dead, I sent my Huntsman. I demanded he bring back her heart in that box. But he betrayed me and brought back the heart of a pig. Fooling me..." She growled, sipping from her glass of tea. Although even the cup of tea couldn't hide the scowl as she remembered such a betrayal.

"Oh..."Evie gulped, not used to seeing this side of her mother. This would be one of few moments where she would be reminded that her mother used to be a villain. Evie resumed herself, gathering courage to continue her request. "Well, could I have it, maybe turn it into a purse?"

"I suppose so." Grimhilde said as she put her cup down. "It is just collecting dust now a days. I'll have it sent out to be cleansed. Tremaine may have one of her granddaughters to do it. Lord knows her family is used too getting their hands dirty."

"Oh thank you Mother!"

Grimhilde immediately response to the following was surprise and a gasp for air. Evie jumped for joy and rushed to her mother's side, giving in for a hug. Grimhilde remained motionless at first as her daughter buried her face in her chest. The Queen couldn't help but smile as she absorbed her daughter's affection. She gently combed her daughter's hair with her hand.

The moment of tender affection would cease as the Queen would resume her usual self.

"Evie, remove your face from my chest. You'll smear your eye shadow!" She said as a slight order, not wanting to do that all over again. Not to mention have it stain her dress of all things!

"Oh! Sorry Mother!" Evie said as she resumed her position from her earlier, standing straight and still with her hands in her lap. Though this still her face beamed with joy of the moment and her eyes no longer distracted.

"Good girl. Now with those thoughts out of your head, we can get back to your precious make-up." The Queen said, ready to carry on with what was really important here.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: **I will make note that this one-shot is a** bit **different. A bit long winded and carrying a tough love type of vibe. Checking the sources behind Harry Hook, I couldn't help but wonder what would be Captain Hook's reaction to Harry's attempt for a hook? Here's my attempt for such a moment...**

Chapter 2: Brandishing a Hook -

On the coast of the Isle of the Lost, there lied on the docks Hook's Inlet and Shack. A provider of fishing assessment, not far from the Jolly Roger, which was forever docked. Deep inside the shack and within it's office, sat Captain James Hook, at his most docile. Once a fierce pirate that once faced the eternal child, Peter Pan, now managing an Inlet store. He shifted through papers at his desk, and using his remaining hand to smoke a cigarette via a forked cigarette holder.

In the past, he would only be this docile when he was trying to locate Pan's hideout back on Neverland. Now here he was, shifting through papers focused on his store. Some were about his profits, others about his lost in profits. Lost thanks to Jafar's son, Jay, constantly thieving from him. Damn that Arabian brat!

The remaining papers were his employees. Ninety percent of them were members of his pirate crew. Each of them assigned various task. Granted a few of the loyal and dedicated ones would carry their jobs with success. Others would be bumbling failures. And the excluded ten percent would be his children.

Yes. He, Capt. James Hook, had children with him on this prison of an Isle. Three of them, in fact. And occasionally he'd force them to do task regarding his store. But the problem with having children work is they get distracted. A lot. And it doesn't help that the Isle give them enough space to hide from him.

His eldest, Harriet, would constantly shirk her work to go flirt with that Tremaine boy, Anthony. And his youngest, Calista Jane, would frequently steal a rowboat of his, pretending to go sailing with it. He condemned Harriet's flirtations, but encouraged CJ's fantasies of the sea. He simply wished his endeavors didn't have to suffer from their feminine wills.

The only one he could depend on was his boy, Harry. The captain smirked at the thought of his son. Memories would flood of his son eagerly going through his work, pretending to be a pirate like his father. Once the boy would chase down the hatchlings of Tick Tock, claiming to avenge his father's hand. The Captain could admit the boy was a Hook at his core. Dependable and ambitious.

Except for today that is. As of today the boy was absent and the work effort clearly depleted. Conveniently the Captain's first mate, Mr. Smee was coming with a tray of wine for him. Usually during the day Hook would need some alcohol to endure the shenigans of his bumbling crew mates. But now wasn't the time for that. Now was the time for a question.

"Mr. Smee, where is Harry?" The Captain queried. If anyone was to know the going-ons of his crew, it'd be Smee.

"Harry? Why I believe I saw the dear boy by the docks." The elder man said calmly, "Possibly pretending to avenge your hand again."

Mention of such caused the Captain to rise up from his chair, rushing on his scarlet long-coat, "The boy shirked his work to mess with those infernal crocodiles!" He sneered.

"Oh come now, Captain. I thought you liked the crocodiles being killed off?" Smee said, trying to reason with his captain. He didn't want Harry to be yelled at by his father.

"The boy could've done that after his work!" Capt. roared as he rushed out the door, heading way for his son's location.

Smee couldn't but look glum at his failure to calm the captain, "Oh bother!"

Captain Hook approached the walkway of the dock, looking every direction for his son. Where could the boy be? The docks aren't as spacious as the rest of the Isle. He couldn't hide from him, not in broad daylight. Smee better not have sent him on a goose chase!

"Come on you stupid croc!" Hook had overheard, recognizing the voice of his ten year old son, "Take a bite already!" It sounded like it wasn't too far, in direction of the left. Almost as if were at the birch of one of the docks, residing in one of the docked dinghies. Stepping forward, Hook walked in witness of quite a scene.

Harry squatted in the dinghy, with one of Tick Tock's various offspring resting next to it. One of considerable size too, like it's father. It'd be only Hook's familiarity with the original croc that allowed distinction. But the captain wasn't frightened by it's size. But by it's open jaws with his son's hand within it's reach.

"HARRY!" Hook called out as if he were Davy Jones back for revenge. He had used his hook of a prosthetic to take hold of his son's shirt collar, pulling his son away from the creature with all of his strength. With all of the speed he could muster, he had pulled his flintlock pistol from his coat pocket and took aim. Took aim for the tunnel that was the croc's gullet and...FIRED!

Without a second missed, the crocodile's body immediately dropped dead, a crimson wound staining it's green, leathery hide. Harry stood by shocked, not used to being man-handled, let alone by his father. He never had his father rushed in like that before. He felt discomfort by his father's hook being pressed against the back of his neck.

"Harry Ishmael Hook! What were you thinking?!" Roared the Captain, demanding to know what would possess his son of such asinine behavior. The captain had been so consumed with yelling, he swore he could taste the oxygen off his own breath.

"I want trying to get the crocodile to bite..."The boy began to mumble with shame, "...so I could have a hook like you." Harry looked at his father with tears in his eyes, not wanting to anger or disappoint his father.

But the captain didn't express either anger nor disappointment. Instead he immediately pulled his son in for a hug. Which Harry would say is even more shocking, especially out of his father. What was father doing? Why wasn't he yelling at him further?

"Be a Hook by your surname, not your hand." Hook had whispered gently into his son's hear before releasing him from the surprising hug. He held up the hook prosthetic of a hand before his son's face. "I lost my hand because of some savage brat! I'd be even more of a legend if I accomplished much more with both my hands!"

"I...I..."Harry was at a lost for words. He had never heard his father spoke ill about himself before. Usually there were words of pride, regarding himself as a fierce legend of the seas. Not a handicapped victim of circumstance. If he wasn't going to talk, then his father wasn't going to let him.

"You want to be like me?" He asked, which of course was met with Harry nodding his head very eagerly. "Then one day accomplish a dream of mine. Take your hands and strangle the life out of Peter Pan!"

By those words, Harry could only look at his hands. If he were promise such a thing to his father, it'd be very strict to the letter. If he were accomplish such a task, it'd require both his hands. Without a hook. But if it was what his father wanted...

"Ok Dad. I promise." Harry said, his voice without wavering.

"That's my boy." Hook smiled, for one of the few occasions in Harry's life. "Smee!" He called out, in the loudest call he had ever gave, causing Harry to cover his ears.

The elderly first mate came up running. Out of breath, but he came. "Ugh...Ugh...Yes Captain?" Smee asked exhausted.

"Have the crew come for this carcass." The Captain pointed at the dead crocodile, "And have them hollow it out into a clock. We'll then sell it for a profit."

"Y-yes captain." Smee stuttered, a bit shocked by the sight of such. But he carried on with his orders, assembling others while the Captain and son walked onward.

"Lesson of the day, son: Obtaining no profit from the dead? Bad form." Hook said, hoping to move on from this moment and return to his ship.

"Yes, Captain Dad!" Harry said with glee, sounding almost foreign compared to the child he was about two minutes. Such a sound resulted in another smile making its way on Hook's face as he and his boy made their way for the Jolly Roger. His papers at work could wait for another day...


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: And for this trick, Dizzy Tremaine! I've checked sources and it's listed that Dizzy has many sisters actually, Dizzy being the only officially named. Sources also mention Lucifer having a litter of kittens, so I'll have a joke made from that. Two things ultimately: (1) I DONT OWN SWEET NIGHTINGALE! (2) I may possibly have Drizella out of character, but I'll try my best with her. (Song lyrics are in bold).**

Chapter 3: Not Dizzy but Tired

On the Isle of the Lost, occupied an area nicknamed "Troll Town". The neighborhood is primarily inhabited by trolls and goblins, but a small apartment in the area was all that could be afforded by Drizella Tremaine. Though small, it housed the former stepsister and her six children.

Lying in her bed was the youngest of the Tremaines, Dizzy, stirring restless. Many would spur the 9-year old for still being in bed by daylight, but Dizzy couldn't help that she worked midnights. She would attempt to simply lie and rest, but to no success thanks to the noise of her siblings.

Her elder sisters would be all over the apartment, indulging in all kinds of noise. Television, cellphone conversation, mindless chatter. All made worse by the condensed size of the home! How was she supposed to sleep through this?!

"Can everyone be quiet?!" Dizzy exclaimed, practically pulling on her red-headed pig-tails.

"NO!" Her sisters denied her in unison, each sounding as rude as the last.

"Ugh!" Dizzy groaned in surrender, slumping back in her bed, screaming her frustrations into her pillow. Bad enough that Granny makes her work in the Salon, but could her sisters let her be well rested before her shift?

"What's all this yelling?!" Responded the nasally voice as her mother entered the room. Drizella entered, looking as tired and irritated as her daughter, meaning she just got back from her shift. Which meant she wasn't in the mood for nonsense.

"Well? Who's yelling and why?!"

"Mom, they're being loud and I'm just trying to sleep before my shift tonight!" Dizzy complained, hoping her mother's would get something done about it.

"One, Mom's home and tired, so everyone shut up!" Drizella announced, extending her finger for emphasis.

"Yes Mom." All the children, including Dizzy, obeyed in unison. It has gotten silent in a matter of seconds. Dizzy hoped it would remain for the next few hours.

Drizella would next approach Dizzy's bedside, kicking off her slippers as she did so. As she sat next to daughter, a sigh of relaxation escaped the exhausted mother.

"Dizzy, lie down." Drizella said.

"Huh? Why?" Questioned the red head, not seeing where her mother was going with this.

"You want to rest? I'm going to sing you a lullaby to put you to sleep." Drizella explained as if it obvious. Bet Anatasia doesn't deal with so much questions.

You mean like how you put Azazel to sleep?" Dizzy whimpered, recalling memories of Lucifer's kitten...

"No, no. Just lay down and I'll sing." Drizella said, glaring at the red-head until she obeyed. As she'd finally lay down, the mother began her song with a pitch...a nasally pitch.

" ** _The pear-shaped toe!_** Ahhh!" She carried the tune. Her other daughters covered their ears but she resumed.

 ** _"Oh, sing sweet nightingale_**

 ** _Sing sweet nightingale_**

 ** _High above me_**

 ** _Oh, sing sweet nightingale_**

 ** _Sing sweet nightingale_**

 ** _High above!"_**

Dizzy would admit that her mother's voice was a bit off key but that didn't bother her. Compared to noises at work or from her sisters, it was practically heavenly to her ears. Enough to make her eyelids feel heavy as her mother continued.

 _ **"Oh, sing sweet nightingale**_

 _ **Sing sweet nightingale, high**_

 _ **Oh, sing sweet nightingale**_

 _ **Sing sweet nightingale**_

 _ **Oh, sing sweet nightingale!"**_

As her song ended, Drizella looked at her surroundings. All her other daughters were gone. Must have gone to the other room, she assumed. She looked at Dizzy, who was now asleep.

Though it's goes against all she learned in life, Drizella couldn't help but give a soft smile. She rarely got to see her children in positions like this. It caused her to extend her hand, gently combing Dizzy's red hair.

She looked peaceful. It brought back memories for Drizella. Fond memories of her and her sister. Before the arguments, before her stepsister, before that glass slipper...

 _'That glass slipper. That darn slipper!'_ Drizella thought with contempt.

"If only I got it to fit. We wouldn't be here." Drizella said softly, almost underneath her breath. "I'd go back and cut off my toes if it'd fit that slipper."

Evidently Dizzy wasn't hearing any of it, she was simply snoozing away. Drizella knew she better let her baby girl rest before her own mother would work her like a scullery maid tonight. A light kiss on the forehead was what she would leave her daughter with.

"For the next few hours, be a princess at least in your dreams. Goodnight Dizzy."

Drizella would silently leave the room, hoping her daughter would dream of what peace she could have on this Isle...


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Now for Freddie Faciler! In canon, she has made mention that her father was present in her life, if not a tad overshadowing. I'm here to build on that. Note that this chapter has tarot cards involved yet ruled by my basic understanding. So easy on the judging. Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

Chapter 4: Freddie's First Doll

"ARE YOU READY?!" were the words that echo our scene, with a booming voice. Our scene begins with the looks of a graveyard, underneath a thundering sky lighten by shades of purple. Originally occupied by only graves of the fallen, now hold a chase scene of the unnatural.

Our scene consisted of a dark skinned child, a girl the age of five, fleeing for her life. The odd sight of a young child running through a cemetery quickly became more strange. Behind the running child were three, fierce looking mask, floating and gaining speed on the child.

"ARE YOU READY?!" Their questioned bellowed as they continued the chase on the girl. The girl had counted, this was the fifth time they asked such. And without further context. Ready for what? The girl was too scared to think and question it.

"NO! Stay away from me!" She screamed and tried to run faster, wishing she wasn't here. How did she even get here?! She had no clue nor thought, just to keep running from these freaky masks!

"ARE YOU READY?!" They asked one more time, this time the "teeth" of their facial designs were now more fierce, looking as they weren't going to take any answers short of a "yes".

"NO!" Freddie screamed, a scream that was cut short as she tripped over a branch that was lying around in the graveyard. Her movements went sporadic as she attempted to resume posture after she fell. She looked behind her, only to see the three Lao-mask behind her.

She gasped. She couldn't breathe. This was basically the end and she knew it. And she's only five! There's so much that she hasn't done with her life!

The Lao-mask slowly lean forward to her, looming over her as if they were deities that were judging her right down to her soul. Their "mouths" open as they're about to talk. She could only guess what they're about to say.

"ARE YOU-"

"-WAKE UP ALREADY!"

"Huh?" Freddie asked as she felt her body bolt upward and looked around her. She was now in her room rather than a graveyard. And rather than have the Lao-mask looming over her, it was her father scowling.

It was all a nightmare, she realized. Which only left the question of what was her father doing in her room?

"Why, oh why, were you screaming at 2 in the morning?!" Her father scowled. The elder Faciler would usually have his day filled with plans and deals, so he didn't like it when his sleep would be interrupted.

"I had a nightmare, Daddy!" Freddie whimpered, "they were creepy mask chasing me!"

"A nightmare? Ah, child, you disturbed my sleep over that?!" The Shadow Man scowled, turning around and about to leave his daughter be.

"But Daddy it was scary!" Freddie pleaded for comfort, "They kept chasing me, asking me if I was ready for something."

By those words, the doctor had stopped in his steps. His hand, mere inches away from the doorknob, backed away. He turned facing his daughter, showing a face of interest. Possibly concern, even.

"Masks, you say?" He asked, Freddie nodding, "Asking if your ready?" Freddie nodded once again.

Dr. Faciler didn't question further, he merely responded by moving towards a dresser in the corner of Freddie's bedroom. He kneeled down to the last drawer, intruding it for something. Freddie could only turn her head in confusion. What was her daddy doing?

Pulling out from the drawer, he was holding what resembled a doll. One that resembled many that her father had. A small doll, whose "skin" was colored by soft, green fabric. It had black buttons for eyes. And had long strands of black yarn posing as a ponytail of "hair", with a few needles and pins sticking out from it.

A voodoo doll, Freddie recalled her daddy calling the others such.

"Here. This little fella should help ya." He said as he handed the doll to his daughter, her approaching it slowly as she seemed unsure of it.

"Why? How will it help, daddy?" Freddie questioned, pulling out one of the needles in exploration of the doll.

"He will inflict pain on anyone you want hurt." He explained bluntly, as if a five year old were to accept such, "Pretends he's the masks, and hurt him with that needle."

"You want me to hurt the doll?" She questioned, shocked that her daddy would give her a gift and expect her to damage it.

"He's meant to be hurt, honey." He explained, taking a hold of her hand and guiding it to form a tight hold around the needle. "So he'll be able to give that hurt to those who plan on hurting you."

Freddie closed her, remaining silent, as if she were absorbing all of this in. This gift was pretty much part of a lesson for her. The first lesson to be taught by her father. She should heed his words, right? Especially if they were meant to protect her.

These thoughts were followed by her slowly raising the needle into the air. And quickly, she brought the needle down in a stabbing motion. A stab that penetrated the doll in the "face".

"I'm not ready, you stupid masks!" She shouted as she tried to push the needle deeper. Her father couldn't help but smirk. Control and a temper. She certainly took after him.

"Every time those masks bother you, hon, just use Little Bayou there." Faciler explained as he turned for the door.

"Little Bayou?" Freddie questioned, finally ceasing from the temperamental stabbing.

"Yes, that his name." Faciler quickly answered, not even letting her give any response, for he quickly exited out the door, making way for his office.

Faciler sat at his desk, seemingly sulking for a bit. Contemplating all that was on his mind. Which for the moment, were the details of his little girl's nightmare. It sounded too much like the Lao to him. Why would his old "Friends on the Other Side" bother his daughter of all people?

He took out a deck of cards from his jacket pocket. His deck of tarot cards, to be precise. Never leaves without them. Shuffling the deck, he then discarded three cards onto his desk, all facing down. He would then flip them over, to see the identity of each card. Hoping to interpret a message for the future.

The Tower. The Nine of Swords. And finally, The Moon.

All of which meant danger for the future. The Tower represented danger all together, with change coming forth. The Nine of Swords, meant anxiety and sleepless nights. May explain Freddie's dreams. And finally, the Moon. Meaning the unknown. Which only added to the fear of upcoming danger.

Faciler didn't like those signs. If danger was coming for him, he would be one with a knife in store for stabbing said danger as it'd show up. But this wasn't just him nowadays. Freddie's presence may factor in such signs. Which only made him worry more.

"My old 'Friends' took all they wanted from me. Even my soul." Faciler muttered with contempt, "But they can keep their hands off Freddie. Baby girl's mine."

By that point, Faciler went walking down the hall, passing by Freddie's door. Judging by the sounds of it, she's still consumed with stabbing Little Bayou. As he made it to the end of the hall, he went for the rotary phone. Making a quick call, he finally heard the sound of picking up after half a dozen rings.

"Hook here. What do you want?" Answered the irritated and tired tones of the formerly fierce pirate.

"Why hello, Captain. Dr. Faciler here. I'm merely calling to make you a deal. It's about your children's enrollment at Dragon Hall." Faciler called, using his best 'salesman voice' as he made mention of the school he ran.

"What are you proposing?" Hook asked, sounding a tad intrigued. As Faciler expected. Hook wanted his children enrolled, knowing he's tired of ship-schooling them.

"You do a favor for me in the future, and I'll have your kiddies enrolled at Dragon Hall. No details now, just know you'll be owing me one in the near future." Faciler spoke, summoning that menacing yet luring aura that once followed him.

The phone lines remained silent. Faciler had hoped that the pirate hadn't ditched him.

"Do we have a deal, Captain?" He questioned, if not for the deal, at least to insure that he's still on the line.

"We have a deal, Dr. Faciler." Hook finally spoke, sounding begrudging yet compromising.

"Great." The Shadow Man said satisfied, "Your little pirates enroll Monday."

With that, he hung up the phone without even so much as a farewell.

 _No friends on the Other Side, yet some on the Isle,_ Faciler smirked. He'll make a cushion for the future, he will.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Now for Ginny, daughter of Mother Gothel! This chapter is a bit experimental, for Ginny is a book character and is vaguely detailed. Merely a physical appearance, vague presence, and still evil. That's it. This will be my attempt of expanding on her as well as provide a tender moment. Read, Review, & Enjoy!**

Chapter 5: Mother Knows Best -

On the Isle of the Lost, not too far from Goblin Wharf, there stood the Gothel residence. The residence resembled somewhat of a greenhouse. The metal composition of the complex had absolutely every inch of it rusted, and every window was broken or shattered. Most likely by vandals. Throughout the residence, both surrounding the externals and covering internally, are the golden flowers withering to the brink of death.

Skipping towards the residence was a young girl with dark frizzy hair with piercing grey eyes. Ginny Gothel, her name is. She wore a red dress, soiled with stains and lined with tattered golden piping. Her dark hair had reached down to her shoulder blades, its length danced along with her movements as she skipped towards the household.

"Mother! I'm back!" Ginny called out as she entered.

"Oh? Ginny, you're here." Mother Gothel had said without much enthusiasm as she seemed to be preparing a meal. She stood at the counter, nonchalantly stirring a bowl with a spoon.

"What are you making?" Ginny asked with curiosity, eyebrows raised.

"Obviously you're favorite. Hazelnut soup." Mother Gothel said matter-of-fact, confident in her words. She seemed so sure that said dish was Ginny's favorite, despite the annoyed expression on her daughter's face.

"Ugh! Mother, you need to learn how to cook more than one dish!" Ginny exasperated, counting this as the 4015th time that Hazelnut soup would be the course of the day in her life.

"And children should listen." Mother Gothel snarked annoyed, "Where were you today anyway?"

"I was hanging out with Claudine for a bit after school." Ginny explained, yet still weary of her mother's judging eyes.

"So you were at the Frollo house, up in that bell tower?" Ginny had nodded before her mother carried on, "Oddly reckless for the girl who's usually afraid of heights."

"Claudine was holding onto me the entire time." Ginny rushed as she attempted to explain, "She was making sure I wouldn't fall."

"One, don't mumble my little thorn." Mother Gothel noted, "Two, next time keep your distance. I don't trust that girl's father."

"Yes, Mother. Even _I_ know of Judge Frollo's reputation." Ginny muttered, yet resumed herself as her mother glared at her for mumbling.

"So, I take it Frollo's girl had conquered your fear of heights and towers then?" Mother Gothel had asked as she resumed her cooking, cutting up herbs with a knife.

"Yes mother. Consider me no longer weakened like a fool." Ginny said with a widen smile. She had always considered her fear a weakness. And mother always said that weaknesses were bad.

"Says the girl who ventured to the home of Judge Frollo." Mother Gothel said laced with sarcasm, "Tread with caution, my little thorn."

"I shall, mother." Ginny had said as she taken her place at the table, now with two bowls of soup prepared. She had bent down to obtain a stool, only for her mother's hand to suddenly place itself on her shoulder.

"What is up with your hair?" Mother had asked, in a tone that was demanding for an answer. Her hand had slowly clenched into a claw, taking hold of her.

"Oh. It had gotten caught on a hook back at the bell tower. Nearly tore it for a moment." Ginny said nervously, not used to seeing her mother seem angry Irritated or disinterested? Sure, but never really angry.

"Caught on a hook..."Mother said softly, her eyes widen for some reason. Ginny couldn't piece together why exactly. Yet Mother had responded by reaching for a kitchen drawer, pulling out a pair of shears.

"M-mother! Why do you have shears out?" Ginny stuttered frighten, for clearly her mother with shears wasn't a happy sight.

"Your hair is too long, now." Mother said as she grabbed Ginny and forcefully turned her around, "You need a trim, my thorn."

And without hearing a single word out of Ginny, Mother Gothel had begun snipping locks of dark hair off. Ginny was frighten and shocked, but Mother had her pressed in a position where she couldn't move against her wishes.

"I've told you how long hair is a curse of a trait." Mother had rambled on as she trimmed the hair, "Keeping you from moving, allowing men to steal you."

It had clicked in Ginny's head as to the 'why'. Mother had told her of a fable all her life. " _The Golden Fairchild",_ She had called it. Speaking of a little girl, so irradiated with goodness, it had grown out through her hair, extending it. Grown incredible lengths, the girl couldn't move, allowing a thief in the night to take the child away.

 _Was this why?_ Ginny wondered as her mother kept cutting, _Is mother trying to keep me from being like the Golden Fairchild? Mother knows best, doesn't she?_

"There! All done!" Mother Gothel exclaimed, her hands flying upward in celebration. Her hands would then scurry in search of a shard of glass, to use as a mirror. She settled on a broken shard from a window.

Ginny had taken the shard, lining the reflection up with herself. She gasped at the sight. No longer did she have the long hair that consumed with curls. Though the curls remained, they were no longer dominant. And her hair was fashioned into the short-trim fashion of a Pixie's cut. So light, so free. It had brought a smile to her face.

"Oh thank you mother!" Ginny exclaimed, rushing in to hug Mother Gothel. The hug had surprised the mother, yet she did not refuse it. She merely smirked and combed her daughter's newly trimmed hair.

"There, there, my little thorn." Gothel mused, "Now, let us not have our soup get cold."

By that line, Ginny's smile had dropped quickly. Back to the Hazelnut soup. As they sat down at the table, she quickly accepted that some things never change. New haircut, same old routine. But she knew not to fight it. For Mother knows best.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: And for this chapter, Mal! For the topic, I knew that Mal would always be compared to Maleficent's youth. I'll admit the chapter is a bit of a quickly written one, but hopefully not disappointing. Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

"Anything?" Asked a curious Mal, as she had her head at a 45 degree angle. Her former enemy turned best friend, Evie, stood by her side eying the young half-breed's scalp.

"Nope. Nothing." Evie said, relinquishing Mal's head after ten minutes of examination.

"Ugh!" Mal exclaimed, "When am I ever gonna get my horns?!"

Evie sighed with sympathy as well as surrender. She was aware of how important the subject of horns were to Mal. Yet she couldn't help but count this as the sixth time for when she can't exactly help.

"I'm not sure. Horns aren't exactly common in my family." Evie snarked.

"I know that!" Mal barked, "But it's not like I can talk to the boys about this!"

Mal's anger immediately faded away as she realized the shock and hurt she created all over Evie's face. As a villain's daughter, she couldn't exactly apologize, but she could rub some dirt in the wound.

"Look, it's just, I don't have too many people to talk to about this, ok." Mal sulked, her voice at a gravelly tone.

Evie looked down at the ground, actually understanding, "Well, what about your mom?", She queried.

"My Mom?!" Mal exclaimed shocked, "Could you imagine her reaction? _It's probably cause you're not evil enough."_ She said, putting on her best Maleficent impression.

"Oh come now." Evie hushed, "As much of a perfectionist your mother can be, she has to have some interest in your life. This could be the time she provides grand advice."

Mal pondered it for a moment. There wasn't much to lose other than ridicule. Evie had a point. She'd goes with the plan: Show her mom weakness, hoping for advice or minor ridicule.

"Ok. Here goes nothing." Mal said, taking running for her mother's castle.

Mal barged into her mother's personal quarters without even saying a word. Conveniently her mother was simply reading one of her old spell-books and not something embarrassing like trying on a corset. Although Mal still felt a twinge of fear as she saw her mother's green face cringe with irritation by her sudden barging. Either way, Mal would regret her decision later.

"Mother, when will you think my horns will come in?" Mal asked, her tone sounding a cross between annoyed and paranoid.

"When you become properly evil." Maleficent said without even looking away from her spell-book. Although this only gotten an irritated response from her half-breed daughter.

"But I mean, how old were you when you got your horns?" Mal questioned further, and by further, she got closer and invaded her mother's personal space. Maleficent responded by placing her book down and giving Mal the death glare before speaking.

"I was about a few years younger than you. And abundantly more evil at that age." Maleficent finished her sentence by trying to return to her reading.

Mal rolled her eyes at that the comment, having expected her mother trying to live up her old glory days.

"Will my mine be humongous like _yours?"_ Mal asked, gesturing the size with her hands. She didn't expect her mother's reaction though.

Maleficent once again ceased her reading, her eyes gone wide, her face having a light blue blush in contrast with her green skin. Mal would note this to be the only time that she would ever see her mother _blush._ "With your grandmother's genetics, they'll be like an antelope's". She murmured.

"Mother, I've never seen an antelope." Mal sassed, "Does that mean they'll be big?"

"Ugh." Maleficent sighed, "Yes, Mal. They'll be big."

"Great." She murmured, "Now if only they'll grow."

"They will, my evilette." Maleficent petted her daughter, "Continue your evil nature and they'll grow in no time."

Mal couldn't resist smirking at her mother's comfort. This was a first for her mother, and she couldn't help but enjoy it.

"Thanks Mom." Mal said, her head nuzzling against her mother's petting hand. This sign of affection seemed to awaken her mother to what was happening though. Her hand reeled back, recoiled in her cloak.

"Enough of that! Go do something fiendish!" Maleficent ordered her daughter, wanting her daughter to be elsewhere, away from her affectionate perimeter. Mal could only respond by retreating outside, deciding to return to Evie. She would travel to her the Grimhilde household, fantasizing images of horns in her head until she reached the destination.

By the time she reached the household, Mal had a question for Evie's mother: "Queen Grimhilde, what do antelope horns look like?

 ** _A tale to continue another day..._**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So, this one is another experimental one: Hadie, son of Hades! Another book only character, vaguely detailed and mentioned as one of the 'Anti-hero club' in one of the novels. Going to make attempt to expand upon such. As for Hadie's physical appearance, citing inspiration from a Descendants related music video, Hot Down Here, by Chris Villain. Read, Review and Enjoy!**

Running through the narrows of Troll Town on the Isle was a young demigod that goes by the name of Hadie. A youthful teen possessing astounding features. An uncombed mess of bright blue hair and piercing yellow eyes. Bizarre attributed completely garbed in dark leather and currently being chased by a mob of goblins. Noting on how despite their short statures, they carry enough speed to make him run for his life. Thankfully he had to turn in the corner of his left for escape.

"Where the punk go now?!" were the words Hadie had heard behind the door.

"I don't know!" said another goblin, "Hopefully he got sent to the Underworld!"

"Keep looking, you schmucks!" Cried out a third, followed by sounds that informed Hadie that they had carried onward. Which earned a sigh of relief from him as he realized he was holding his breath the entire time.

"What did you do this time?" asked a baritone voice that made the demigod jump. And for good reason for the voice belonged to the one that made him a demigod: Hades, his father and Lord of the Dead. Well, _former_ Lord of the Dead, but we don't talk about that.

"Hehe, I may or may have not been caught on Grimhilde's property." Hadie said with an awkward chuckle, brushing the back of his hair with hand as he attempted to charm his way out of trouble. Of course failing when all his charming techniques were learned from his father himself.

"You were attending one of Yen Sid's little club meetings, weren't you?" Hades said with a tone and frown that just read _defeated,_ even before there was a fight begun.

"Yeah. Yeah, I was." Hadie came forth, knowing he couldn't fool his father. Especially when he already knew what was up. Like his father, he frowned, being one of the few moments that didn't have him smirking. He could feel on instinct that tonight wouldn't end well for him.

Hades took out a cigar and lighter from a drawer, lighting it as soon as it was in his mouth. Oddly, whenever Hades would smoke, he'd subconsciously rub his bald scalp due to recalling that the lack of flames nowadays. Which by that logic, Hadie knew the situation would be worsen if his dad was having a mid-life crisis on the side.

"You mind telling me why? Like, why were attending such?" Hades asked out of the side of his mouth, with an even tone that his son couldn't identify as boiling angry just yet.

"W-would you believe me it was over a girl?" Hadie stuttered, hoping that would be enough for his father. But of course this merely unleashed another can of worms from his father.

"A girl, huh?" Hades asked, "You and I've already had the 'Spring and Pomegranates' talk, right?"

"Y-yes, Dad!" Hadie stuttered with light panic and bearing a light blush, "We don't need to bring that conversation back up!"

"You sure?" Hades asked casually as he continued to smoke his cigar, "Cause the Olympios family tree is already big as it is."

"Yes Dad, I swear!" Hadie said, wanting this conversation to end for the second time in his life. Hades could take a hint and carried on with the rest of the conversation.

"Ok..." Hades paused for a second, "...So, who's the girl?"

Hadie merely held his breath for a moment before responding, bearing a blush more red than his father's past flames of anger, "Yzla."

"Yzla, huh? That's Yzma's little girl, ain't it?" Hades asked with his usual smirk, responded with an embarrassed nodding from his son.

"Hmmm. So, is this girl the only reason you've meeting up with Yen Sid's goodie group?" Hades asked further, saying the last part with a bit of distain. Hadie couldn't help but grimace as he heard his dad speak as such.

"...Not completely." Hadie spoke after a moment of silence, kind of being out of character for the Son of Hades. Hades momentarily ceased smoking his cigar in response, simply starring at his son for a solid minute before carrying on the conversation.

"Explain." Hades remarked with a single word.

"I mean, getting close to Yzla is a definite bonus." Hadie said, trying to choose his words carefully, "I mean, she's a cute girl who's not put off by the way I act."

"Ok, I get that." Hades nodded, "Used to feel the same way about most girls in my Glory Days."

"R-right, Dad." Hadie stuttered, unsure about his dad's interruption, "But I hadn't felt that until after our first meeting. For _that_ meeting, I had a bit of a different reason for going."

After choking those words out, Hadie glanced up at his father and focused on his eyes. The yellow eyes of the former Olympian sized him up, as if he were an opponent. Tracking his son's every move as he paced during his stuttered explanation. Which made Hadie feel nervous about continuing, but kept so.

"For that meeting, I went cause I was interested in turning _good._ Like Mal and the others that got transferred to Auradon." Hadie finished his sentence before quickly flinching up and bracing himself for an angry reaction from his father.

He waited for such a reaction. A hit, a smack, or a grab around the leather collar. Only to be met with _nothing._ A silent pause that caused him to peek through his fingers. Through his fingers he simply saw his father now sitting in a chair and resumed smoking his cigar.

"A-are you mad?" Hadie asked his father, making sure not to let his guard down too soon. He slowly reeled back his limbed from his flinching position. Hades had yet to make any movement from his chair, other than taking the cigar back from his blue lips.

"Mad? Not completely. A tad irked, maybe." Hades said with an even tone, his eyes catching son's panic at his last words, "Don't worry though, I get it. Maleficent's girl and her entourage went turncoat and received the big time."

"Yeah, that's basically the jest of it." Hadie, finally relaxed and his limbs completely reeled. But his posture retained the awkwardness from having such a talk with his father.

"Tell me, son. If you'd turn and transfer to Auradon, would you still be my boy?" Hades asked, his voice wavering a tad. Hadie's eyes widen as he heard such a question from his father.

"Y-yes, of course, Dad!" Hadie, couldn't help but chuckle in nervous laughter as he reassured his father. Upon hearing such, the elder Olympian nodded and resumed the conversation.

"Any plans for when you get off of here?" Hades asked, actually sounding interested in what his son had to say in return. Knowing that if his boy were to want off the Isle, he'd want to be doing something.

"A little fun here, a little fame there." Hadie summed up quickly, "Maybe try and achieve that Hero status and earn a place up on Mount Olympus." His voice sounded laced with excitement as he spoke of his aspirations, grinning as he did such.

"Hahaha!" Hades chortle chuckles, noticing that he had made Hadie regress his grin into a frown. "I'm sorry, not mocking you, my boy. Just imagined the look on Zeus' face, the lineage of Hades returning to Mount Olympus, regardless of what side. Priceless!"

Hades' chuckle quickly evolved into laughter, and Hadie couldn't help but loose himself as he joined in on said laughter. Both Olympios men almost fell over as they are consumed by their action of uncontrollable laughter and make their way towards one another, finally in each other's arms for support.

"S-s-so you're not mad then, Dad?" Hadie managed to make out through his laughter, hoping such a good moment to last.

"Hahaha, Nah, boy! I'd like to think I've done a step up over what Maleficent did. Eat it, you heartbreaking fae!" Hades punched his right fist upward in triumph. He felt so lost in the joyous laughter that he couldn't help but loose his cigar out of the side of his mouth. Luckily he was conscious enough to catch and save it before it hit the ground.

And then an idea hit the beautiful mind that is Hades, and handed the lit cigar to his son, "Here, boy. How about your first smoke? A little trophy for the boy who will bring the family name back to the outside." Hades retain the cigar held in face of his son, who seemed to take the moment to look at the cigar, then back at his father, and then back at the cigar.

"Nah, Dad. No offense, but I don't think Yen Sid would be happy if one of his pupils were to come back with smoker's breath." Hadie looked at his father in anticipation, hoping that he hadn't ruined the occasion by rejecting the offer. But he didn't want to soil the build up of _goodness_ from the club meetings. Hades merely responded by taking the cigar back into his mouth, decimating the rest of it in one last smoke.

"Ok, fine. The rest for me." Hades said in his muffled voice. "Which reminds me, I'll need to let Yen Sid know that I'm on board with this club gig."

"Alright!" Hadie punched upward in triumph, excited that all was finally coming to fruition.

"Which may mean that I'll get to meet this Yzla girl." Hades added at the last second, watching as Hadie's posture took a complete 180, dropping in defeat and embarrassment.

"Uh, Dad, I don't think there's a need for that." Hadie began awkwardly, really hoping that he could talk his way out of this last bit.

"I don't think so, boy." Hades wagged his finger in disagreement, "If you went in seeing a girl as a prize of conquest, clearly our last talk wasn't good enough."

"Oh come on, Dad." Hadie said, not liking where this was going.

"Which reminds me." Hades smirked, "Where did we leave off last time? Cause I think we need a refresh on the topic."

"Oh no." Hadie groaned, _The Underworld's starting to sound good right about now._

 **The End.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hello, folks! I'm back! Sorry for the lack of updating, sort of lost focus on this series, but I'm resuming such! For this trick, a one-shot of Jay and Jafar, who I felt were the most affectionate of the Rotten Four. As for some of the dialogue, the "Tiger Lover" remark concerning Prince Achmed is a reference to _Twisted: An untold story of a royal vizier..._ which is essentially Wicked but with Jafar XD. That said, remember: Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

"Stop that thieving brat!" Shouted the chasing crowd of thugs and vagrants. Believe it or not, criminals don't exactly like to be robbed themselves. The brat they were referring to was up ahead of them, running for his life. A boy of an Agrabahian tan, chocolate eyes and long hair of a matching color. His name was Jay Abanazar. His entire outfit consisted of leather, looking mismatched due to the mesh of yellow and red coloring in odd places. Said outfit fitted him like a snake's skin due to his small size and frail figure. And finally, held in his hands was a weaved basket with its contents unseen. Most likely what the furious mob was targeting.

"Get back here, boy!" were the shouted words of the mob, words that were drowned out as Jay bolted through the market place, the chase continuing as they followed. Jay hopped through stands, said stands being knocked over as his pursuers would follow yet wouldn't bother with the athletics. One of Ursula's shrimp stands? Knocked over. Yzma's cosmetics? Toppled! Edgar's kitten rugs? Poor man has things worse than Arthritis now. ' _Why won't they just give up?'_ Jay thought in annoyance and fret. He had no clue why they were persistent on retrieving their basket. In his eyes, it was simply a basket. He hadn't even peered into it to view its contents yet.

Jay had looked up ahead, seeing that there was another stand next to the left turn. A stand that he would later discover was Gazeem's Discount Fertilizer. A clever thought had formed in the young thief's mind. As soon as he rushed towards Gazeem's stand, the rotten smell hitting his nostrils upon entrance, he ducked behind one of the corners, taking a deep breath, his figure now hiding behind it perfectly. Seconds passing by, the pursuing crowd would run past the stand, not even noticing that he was there. Jay exhaled a breath of relief as he witnessed such.

Finally having a moment of him not being chased, as well as noticing that stand currently wasn't occupied by any employees, Jay decided to take advantage. He crouched down, placing the basket of concern on the ground. Lifting up one of the lids to the basket, he finally viewed the inner contents and grinned at the sight. An open bag of money. And not the usually rusted, dull coins that he was used to seeing. These coins which filled the open burlap sack were of a more shinier color. _Gold._ Despite being only seven years old, Jay was smart enough to put two and whatever together. This must have been the gang's funds. _'Wait 'til Dad hears about this...'_ Jay thought in excitement, until a pair of hands coming out of nowhere began to manhandle him and interrupt those thoughts.

"Gotcha', you brat!" Yelled his captor, a teenage boy with a tan similar to his own. His outfit consisted of a shirt from a red felt, a leather jacket of a darker shade of red, and black pants that seem to be too puffy in Jay's opinion. But the intriguing bit was his hood that capped his head, made of the pelt peeled from a Bengal tiger's head. Jay had a frightening idea of who the tiger formerly was before becoming said pelt. Quite the sight that it almost distracted Jay from the angry scowl of said teenager, who grasped him firmly by the arms.

"Come back! I found him over here!" The young lad shouted, calling the rest of the gang back to Jay's location. Jay fretted as he saw them all swiftly rush to back to the spot of the stand. And just when he had thought he had gotten away with it all.

"You're in real trouble, you little rat!" Said one of the thugs in tattered rags. He had cracked his knuckles, trying to intimidate Jay. Jay had to internally admit it: It was working. His large and bulking figure, in contrast of the small child's, certainly helped.

"Aba, my sword." The tiger-capped teen ordered one of his goons. The one named Aba, skinny and covered in soot, handed him a sword with a curved blade and black handle of twisted design. The supposed leader handled the sword with a gleeful grin, almost taking a second to admire the blade. Keyword being a second, for he then directed his gaze back to Jay and lifted his sword upward. "Let's handle our little rat problem."

By those words, Jay closed his eyes shut. He didn't want to look when he was about to meet his fate. His head downward, eyes clenched, thoughts silently praying to whoever. _Dad always made mention of some Allah guy. Hope he accepts thieves._

Jay awaited the final swing of the blade that would be his execution. Only for there not to be one, instead the sounds of _SHING!_ and the yelp of the gang leader. His eyes flashed open to the sight to behold being the leader clenching his hand with the other, wounded and bleeding, having been forced to drop the blade. Next to the leader, burrowed in the post of the stand was a sharp, tossed dagger and the concerning sword dropped at his feet. Jay being the crafty thief that he was, ducked down and grabbed the sword, using to demand the others to back away.

"Back! Get away!" Jay demanded, the bladed armed in desperation.

"I'd listen to that. For that boy belongs to me." Spoken an adult voice, intruding the scene and attracting everyone's attention. A man tanned as the other two, robed in blue and red, wrapped with an orange sash around the torso. His head was capped off with a turban of a indigo coloring. Perched on his shoulder, a scarlet parrot with blue feathers underneath his wings. Jay smiled with joy as he recognized the man. Jafar, his father.

The members of the gang surrounding Jay slowly began to disburse. One by one, until there was about only four men and the leader left. Jay lighten up at the circumstance now, especially at the sight of the leader. Shaking with nerves, yet he would try to act tough. Acting tough in the face of evil with a reputation like his father's. Jafar knew it was a sham as well, smiling that smug smile of his as he approached the lesser scoundrels.

"You know, back in Agrabah, if you took something that belonged to someone else, you'd loose a hand." Jafar taunted them, finding joy in seeing them sweat bullets. The gang saw what he was getting at, moving and allowing Jay to run forth to his father's side, even taking their sword with him. This though apparently did not sit well with the gang leader.

"I am Achmedis, heir to Agrabah's neighboring kingdom of Pikzar!" The gang leader announced and scowled, "If you were to rob from our royalty, you'd be dead."

The rest of Achmedis' gang cheered in agreement, although rather than respond to the threats with fright and worry, Jafar's eye lightened up as a reaction to the words.

"Ah! Son of the Tiger Lover!" Jafar insulted Achmedis, with a gleeful grin on his face. And returning on the face of Achmedis, a furious frown.

"We do not love tigers! We hate them!" Achmedis shouted, his face turning red, sweat forced from it. He pointed his finger at his tiger headed cap as attempt to demonstrate the subject of his hatred. "In fact, it was the initial tiger that hated my father firsthand."

"Whatever you say, Tiger Lover." Jafar insulted nonchalantly, turning away from the sight. "Hopefully you and your father don't share the same heart-shape boxer shorts."

"How dare you!" Achmedis growled, about to charge at Jafar if not for his gang literally holding him back on from the issue.

"If you and your Pikzarian squalors are wishing to step up, I have only this to say: Bring it on." Jafar said, taking the sword from Jay's hands without looking. He then posed himself with the blade forward for battle. With his free hand, he waved Jay away. Jay took that as a command to retreat back to the shop. He knew how his father could get when that retired evil would recoil for another strike to live once more. The last few things Jay would recall as he ran were these: The sound of charging footsteps, a squawk, the cling of a blade, and several yelps. That was all that Jay would over hear as he ran all the way to the shop, awaiting his father.

Jafar would enter the shop with a few cuts on the shoulders of his outfit and the steel blade of his newly acquired sword now as red as the Agrabahian flag. Iago was perched on his shoulder, absolutely trembling. Jafar had dropped the sword to the ground, causing a clanging noise to erupt. As soon as he was unequipped, Jafar took a brief second to relax and breathe in. That is, until the clattering sword alerted Jay to his presence, sending the child off on a welcoming tackle to his father's gut.

"Dad! You're alive!" Jay exclaimed with glee, unknowingly hugging Jafar with what little might he had. That is until the annoyed Jafar grabbed him by the collar and removed. After his son's removal, he smiled at the boy.

"Those fools will know not to touch what's mine!" Jafar said with maniacal glee. Jay chose to take his father's words as a compliment and didn't interject.

"Did you get the gold, Dad?" Jay asked, bobbing up and down with excitement. Jafar suddenly then frowned, which caused Jay to frown in return.

"Fool's Gold. In the lowest regard." Jafar hissed. He whipped out the burlap bag from before out of his sleeve. He dug into it, taking one gold coin. Or _supposedly_ gold coin. Jafar rubbed his pinched fingers all over the coin, gold colored paint coming of it. It clicked in Jay's head. The gold was fake!

"Aww man!" Jay complained, not very welcoming of his own failures. This was a defeating situation, when he had thought it to be a sweet victory.

"Remember Jay: If we had the gold..." Jafar started off the sentence, waving his hand in a circular motion, silently asking Jay to carry it on.

"...We'd rule." Jay finished, a light smile forming on his face. And an even larger smile forming on Jafar's face, which only magnified Jay's own.

"That's my boy!" Jafar cackled and patted Jay on the head. The two decided to turn in for the day, to rest after the long ordeal gone sour.

"Death to Tiger Lover!" Iago squawked, words that were likely scrapped from the battle and putting an end to the day.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Greetings, folks! Just to confirm, I ain't dead. I do apologize for the hiatus, life's had me on the hold up. But I'm back and with this little number on Carlos! The last of the Core Four for me to use. Hopefully y'all enjoy this as my little comeback. Please; Read, Review and Enjoy!**

 **Note: I am using the physical description according to her looks from her sourcing movie (101 Dalmatians). Before I get any comments in the reviews, do note - I don't mind the actress from Descendants. I think she was funny. This is not an issue about race. It's just the look I imagine when I think of Cruella. Now, on with the story!**

Nearby the center of the Isle of the Lost, there is dilapidated manor known as House of DeVil, though more popularly known under the name: "Hell Hall". A manor of Victorian design, bearing the same bicolor scheme of black and white as its owner. Although it is in state of age and despair, holes scattered throughout the walls. The foliage having risen up from the ground and nestling upward into the walls. Tangled and twisted as much as the madam of the house's mind. The home itself smells of rotting wood, chemicals and wet furs. They say a home owner should have their home match their mindset. Being the "creative individual" that she is, Cruella DeVil may have taken that too literally.

The DeVil property had a treehouse in a big oak which overlooked the vacant backyard of the absurdly large area. The treehouse acted as many things for the second DeVil of the household, Carlos. Same as always, he came up there to work on his "project", his lab of sorts. Although to an outsider's eye, it would only appear as a storage of scrap and parts. Mother's chores would often keep him from finishing the "project" he aimed to cobble. Speaking of mother, he was glad that he was there at the moment. Currently she napped, allowing him to dodge the bullet of washing the "precious baby" that was her car.

"Meow!" called a furry companion, hidden beneath the floor. "Come on out, little guy." Carlos said as he released the little creature, revealed to be the black kitten named Beelzebub. Carlos had also built a 12" x 10" secret compartment under the floor to hide and house Beelzebub from his mother and others on the rare occasions when anyone other than him would come up there. Beelzebub nuzzled against Carlos' leg, purring like there was no tomorrow. Though life for a pet on the Isle, it'd be a possibility.

"I missed you, little guy. Hopefully your day hasn't been too bad." Carlos said softly, scratching the back of Beelzebub's ear with one, while still tinkering on his "project" with the other. Oddly enough, a peaceful moment to contrast with the rest of his day.

"Hey 'boss'!" shouted the words of voices that he recognized, but wished he hadn't heard; The Badun Boys, sons of his mother's own minions. Though his mother ordered them to serve him, they did anything but follow him. Just his luck that they showed up.

"Quick Beelzebub, hide!" Carlos whispered, opening the secret compartment, rushing the kitten inside and closing it just as fast. Last thing he needed was for these dim witted brutes to discover the one sensitive thing in his livelihood.

"Hey 'boss'!" They greeted mockingly as they arrived up the latter. Jace stood as a big and strong built for a fourteen year old with his hair into a spiked flattop spiked with a lot of hair gel. He wore a black leather jacket with a Dalmatian design on the back, which had X's for eyes. Sticking from his mouth was a lit and smoking cigarette, courtesy to the tobacco crop growing on the Isle. As well as causing a disturbance for Carlos' lungs.

Harry was a similar case, yet drawn in the opposite direction. Unlike Jace, Harry was a downright squat, balding porker. Probably due to spending his stolen cash at Ursula's restaurant all the time. Must have came from there recently, cause such grease had stained the corners of his mouth and his white shirt. All of which was causing more of a disturbance for Carlos' eyes. Sticking out of the pocket to his unfitted jeans was a small, rusted wrench that had no intention for fixing.

"What'cha doing with all this, boss?" Jace asked, spreading his hands to gesture all the scrap parts and tools in front of them. Though he had stopped speaking for the second, Carlos still couldn't stand his presence. The smoke floating from his cigarette towards Carlos' face, causing a coughing fit out of the latter. Triggering the asthma from years of second smoke exposure. *****

"I-it's *cough* a project I'm *cough* working on." Carlos said in-between coughs. The two brutes glanced at each other, as if the information was absurd to them.

"I bet money that he's trying to make a friend." Harry whispered to Jace, though right in front of Carlos, getting a chuckle out of the former.

"*Cough* C-come on, guys!" Carlos hacked and complained, not all pleased by their presence nor their antics.

"Meow." Squeaked from beneath them. The room immediately went silent, the Badun boys' attention peaked, enough that it caused Carlos' blood to go cold.

"What was that, boss?" Jace asked disturbingly intrigued. Strangely the left side of his face risen in form of a smirk.

"Um..." Carlos paused, not really wanting to answer his question. He was _really_ hoping that their short attention spans would kick in.

"Meow." Squeaked once again, loud enough for the boys to trace the sound to a specific spot of the floor. And to Carlos' dismay, Jace had enough brain cells to figure out the secret compartment. Opening it and taking the preciously concerned kitten. Openly displaying intrigue the other two, though Carlos himself internally felt nothing more than panic.

"Well, well." Said Jace, "What do we have here, boss?"

"You stashing fur for your mum?" Harry snorted the question, "I don't think she'd like it living."

"Don't worry, boss." Jace said to Carlos with a creepy smile, "I think Harry can fix that for you."

And upon that sentence being finished, Jace shoved the kitten forward, holding it in his hands tightly. Enough actually to make Beelzebub gasp softly. Harry followed Jace's actions with a smile of his own as well as taking out his small wrench. Carlos felt frightened, knowing what thoughts were stirring in their heads. Fear had made his blood freeze over. Then slowly boil over.

"Don't!" Carlos pleaded, trying to charge at one of them. Only for him to fail as Jace kicked him right in the stomach, knocking him down. Carlos clenched his body in pain as well fear as he watched the two, Harry raising his wrench upon in the air akin to an executioner raising his axe. Carlos wanted to close his eyes, he really did, but couldn't bring him to do so. His mind screamed out to any higher power out there to intervene.

"Boys!" Cried out a female voice that they all recognized. One that made them all freeze to their very spots. "Come down here, now!"

"Sweet Hades, she's awake." Carlos whispered in dread.

There was no time to loose, they got up and exited the treehouse, even Jace with Beelzebub clenched underneath his arm. By the time they all reached the ground, they each stood in akin to a line-up for mugshots. The Badun boys were shivering as much as Carlos, maybe even more. A contrast to their performance a couple minutes, now being face to face with a true terror.

 _Cruella DeVil._

There she stood, an extremely thin woman that appears to almost look skeletal in appearance around the curves, with pale skin and red lips. Long hair reaching her shoulders, bicolor with white on the left and black on the right. And despite the frightening physique, there was her attire. Black dress, red high heel shoes and black stockings, red opera gloves, large turquoise earrings and ring on her right hand, a cream fur coat with red interior and a matching purse with three foxtails. They say the devil wears Prada, but apparently she wears more than that.

She stood there with her arms crossed and glaring at the boys with a sour scowl. Casting infernal judgement upon as if she were the actual devil herself. She waltz over to them, primarily to stand before Carlos. Of course the one she would cast judgement on first would be her flesh and blood. Be easier to make up her mind that way. Though she did soften her glare as she looked at Carlos. Then she spoke.

"What was all that yelping I was hearing from you?" She asked softly. Carlos twitched and stuttered in response before he gave an actual sentence of an answer.

"F-first was me yelling at them." Carlos stuttered, "The other was me getting kicked in the stomach." By those words, her eyes immediately moved to her son's stomach region.

"Lift up your shirt." Cruella ordered Carlos, him responding accordingly. She glanced her son's stomach, noticing a dirty footprint left on it. Judging on its rather large size, she didn't have to be as intelligent as her son to know who was responsible. She waltz over to Jace, watching him shiver. She snatched the cigarette from his mouth, taking a drag from it herself before blowing the smoke in the younger boy's face. She took delight in seeing him cough.

"Pathetic brand." She insulted, "And it doesn't need to anywhere near my asthmatic son nor does your feet." She gritted her teeth as a little anger set loose upon her expression.

"Y-yes, ma'am." Jace stuttered in fear and compliance. He dropped Beelzebub to reassure his obedient figure for her, allowing the black kitten to run off and hide in the bushes of the backyard. Carlos wanted to chase after him, but couldn't do so in front of his mother.

"How will I make sure you won't do it again?" Cruella growled to Jace, positioning the still lit cigarette in front of his widen eye. Jace continued to shake in fear, but tried to stay in line for Cruella.

"I-I swear, Miss De Vil! I promise!" Jace practically pleaded, his eyes practically begging her not to do such. Cruella looked out of the corner of her eye, glancing at Harry. By the looks of him, he was about ready to faint.

Cruella returned her glance to Jace and slowly backed the cigarette away from his eye. She dropped it on the ground only to put it with the foot of her heels. She kept her eyes focused on Jace the entire time.

"The last thing I need is for Carlos to be too injured to do his chores or hacking up an asthma attack on my furs!" She scowled, "I gave your fathers hell, I surely can give you boys the same."

"Yes, Miss De Vil" Both Harry and Jace nodded in unison.

"Get out." She ordered them, they complied in a dash with no problem.

Carlos stood there in silence. Both not sure how to process what he had just witnessed as well as awaiting her words for himself. Of course as soon as he thought of such, she turned eyes towards him. Today really wasn't his luck.

"Carlos." She said, "That cat doesn't have enough fur for a hat's worth and has no place here. I never want to see it on this property again."

"Y-yes mom." Carlos stuttered dishearten, but knew not to argue with his mother. At least at this point he found solace in knowing that Beelzebub was out of harm's reach.

"Now come." She said softly, "I need you to fluff my furs."

Carlos wanted to groan but kept his mouth shut and followed mother. He was starting to figure maybe taking Harry and Jace's beating would at least keep him in the treehouse. But oh well. Better to handle his mother's bark than her bite

 **The End.**

 ***Another note: I often imagined Carlos as asthmatic due to being Cruella all his live, Cruella who is always portrayed often as a smoker. Let me know what you think of such in the reviews please!**


End file.
